Mason
I hadn’t slept in as late since – well, forever. Peering at the illuminated digits on the clock beside the bed, I was surprised to find it was late morning, and I shot out of bed. It was only when I realised that I was stuck in the shitty farmhouse with an even shittier life, that I had nothing to get up for anyway. All my life I’d worked, from dawn till dusk, and I was going stir crazy with nothing to fill in the days. I was debating whether to clean out the pigsty, try and tackle the coffee maker, or if it would be worth knocking down the pantry wall to open up the small kitchen as I made my way downstairs.
At first, I didn’t see her, and I walked straight past her, but my brain eventually woke up, and I stopped short. Ava was fast asleep on the sofa, the throw partially covering her. Make-up streaked her face, evidence that she had cried herself to sleep, and, from what I could tell, she was still fully clothed under the blanket. There was no fire lit, but there were a few fresh logs and firelighters in the pit. I bit my lip at the tightening in my chest when it became obvious that she’d tried to light it and given up. She must have been so cold.
“Should have come to bed, baby,” I whispered as I tucked the throw over her shoulders and made a mental note to sort out some other form of heating as I made my way into the kitchen.
I’d killed men, tortured people, even endured four hours of rape, yet faced with the monstrosity Ava called ‘The amazing coffee machine of the century’, I withered away from it like it could single-handedly take me down. The noises it made were something out of The Exorcist, and the way it spurted red-hot steam at my face had me wondering if my little warrior had assembled it at a time when she had been angry with me.
“The fuck!” I grumbled as I pulled out a few compartments and unscrewed several caps looking for a place to pour the milk. It was like the chuffing Tardis, normal from the outside but a whole host of complicated procedures were needed to make it work. “Give me bloody instant any day!”
“In the cupboard above the toaster.”
I turned and grinned when Ava walked into the kitchen. She huffed through her nose and wafted me out of the way. “God only knows what crap you’ll drink if anything happens to me.”
“Nah, no worries,” I answered as I settled at the table and drank in the sight of my beautiful wife as she took over the task of making coffee. “I’ll definitely be dead before you.”
Expecting some backchat, I frowned when she became silent and lost in her own world. She moved on autopilot. She wasn’t concentrating on what she was doing; it was only habit that made my morning coffee.
“Everything okay?” I asked when she placed my mug on the table and took the chair next to me, pouring cream into her own hot cup of black nectar.
“Mm-hmm.”
I wasn’t sure if she’d even heard me, repetition over our morning routine dragging the non-descript answer from her.
“I thought we’d nip to Japan today and see if we can find Harry something nice to wear for the farm Christmas party.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe we could scoot over to New Zealand while we’re out, I’ve seen a coat for sale on eBay, and it’s collection only.”
“Yea, that’s fine.”
“I take it you’re still mad at me then.” Giving up, I shuffled around in my chair and studied the pantry wall. It didn’t appear to be a support wall so a couple of hits of the lump hammer and it should be down easily enough. Deciding to give it a go, I drained my cup and got up. I wasn’t one for sitting around, and the mood Ava was in I thought it best to keep busy.
She was still sat staring into space when I walked back in swinging the hammer by my side. She soon perked up when I lifted it high and launched it at the wall.
“What the hell, Mason!”
“Thought I’d open the kitchen up a bit.”
“Open up the kitchen or destroy it?” I was a little affronted when she said, “Admit it, DIY has never been your thing. Perhaps we should get someone in to do it.”
Shrugging off her concerns, I glowered at her. “It’ll be fine. Trust me.”
Famous last words.